Twisted Strands (12 page)

Bridie held Andrew’s gaze. ‘Will you promise to get one done and send it to me?’

Slowly Andrew nodded.

Shortly after her birthday, Bridie came to live with Eveleen in Nottingham. They all knew that very soon both Richard and Andrew would volunteer. They could not be dissuaded by
anyone.

The Prime Minister, Herbert Asquith, had called for another half million men to sign up for the army. Recruiting posters, with Lord Kitchener pointing his finger outwards and exhorting Britons
to ‘Join Your Country’s Army!’, were appearing everywhere. And now, the papers said, almost as many men were joining the army in a day as were normally recruited in a year.

For the moment, the news from across the Channel was hopeful. In the first decisive battle on the Western Front, the Allies had driven the enemy back and removed the threat to Paris. British
losses had been heavy, but one of the generals had remarked that they had not been ‘excessive in view of the magnitude of the great fight’.

Eveleen almost ripped the newspaper to shreds when she read it. To her mind, even one casualty was one too many. As she was about to throw down the paper in disgust another item caught her
attention and she picked it up again.

‘First Shots Are Fired in War at Sea’ the headlines screamed at her. Her hand flew to her mouth and she found she was holding her breath as she read on. Enemy submarines had sunk
three British cruisers off the Netherlands. Hundreds had survived and had been picked up by another cruiser, only to be torpedoed again and cast back into the sea.

‘Oh, Jimmy,’ Eveleen whispered. ‘I hope you’re safe. God keep you safe too.’ She closed her eyes and sent up a silent entreaty that her mother had not seen the
newspaper. Even if they rarely heard from him, and despite what had happened in the past, Eveleen still cared about her brother and she knew that he was never far from her mother’s thoughts.
But she realized that the odds were stacked heavily against every one of the menfolk in her life coming safely home and the thought was like the cold hand of death clutching her heart.

Bridie said her goodbyes to Micky and his family, to her gran and to Josh, who had hugged her tightly.

‘Don’t forget, mi duck, we’re always here for you. This is your home and always will be.’

Mary gave her a list of commandments, almost like Moses with his tablets of stone, Bridie thought impishly, trying to keep a straight face.

‘Now don’t you be getting into bad company. And don’t go getting involved with soldiers. They’ll be all over the city. You look a lot older than you are and you’ll
be attractive to the wrong sort of feller. Specially when they’re going to war and not knowing if they’re going to come back. They’ll say all sorts of things to make you –
well – do things you shouldn’t.’

Bridie resisted the temptation to ask innocently: What things, Gran? She knew that Mary would see through her. Bridie hadn’t grown up on a farm without understanding the facts of life from
an early age. Instead she said meekly, ‘Yes, Gran.’

The blackbird in the loft was long gone and the injured rabbit had been released back into the wild some weeks earlier. Now there was nothing to keep her at Pear Tree Farm and, despite her
gnawing fear over Andrew – and Richard and all the others who were planning to go – she was thrilled that her aunt wanted her.

Over the next few weeks Eveleen and Bridie found themselves so busy that they scarcely had time to mope. Eveleen was becoming more involved with the running of the factory, as well as overseeing
the warehouse. Each morning she and her father-in-law met to discuss the immediate future of Reckitt and Stokes, but Richard refused to join them.

‘Won’t you help us, Richard?’ Eveleen begged. ‘We need to know what you want us to do.’

‘I don’t know what’s going to happen over the next few months, years even. I’m not going to be here . . .’

Eveleen gasped in alarm. ‘Oh, don’t say that.’

Richard shrugged. ‘My darling, none of us know how long this war is going to last. We have to face facts. Besides, I have things to see to before I enlist. I have to see our solicitor . .
.’ His voice trailed away and he said no more, but Eveleen shuddered inwardly. She guessed he intended to make a will. To her, it felt as if he was tempting fate.

‘You know,’ Brinsley Stokes said at their first meeting, ‘we’re going to have to train women to take the place of some of the men in the factory.’ He glanced
sideways at her, his smile teasing her gently.

Eveleen laughed, knowing he was remembering the time she had dressed up as a boy to take her brother’s place alongside Luke Manning.

‘Well,’ she said coyly, feeling suddenly more light-hearted. Plunging herself into work and all its present problems gave her less time to think and consequently less time to worry
herself sick. ‘I think it’s been proved that it’s possible for a woman to work in the machine shop.’

They laughed together, remembering.

‘They won’t be able to become fully fledged twist-hands. You do know that, don’t you? Some of the work required would be far too demanding physically. It’s very heavy.
But women could certainly do all sorts of jobs that assist the twisthands. Winding bobbins, threading and stripping.’

‘What’s stripping?’

‘It’s the last twenty yards on a bobbin that can’t be used. It has to be stripped off by hand.’

‘Oh, I remember now. Yes, Luke used to have me doing that.’

‘We’ll need to talk to the men who are left first. What I suggest is that we put a young woman with each of the old hands – the ones who aren’t likely to volunteer or
even to be conscripted, if it should come to that.’

Already, Eveleen thought with an inward sigh, another reminder. The war could never be far away from any of their thoughts.

Brinsley was continuing. ‘I say “young women” because I think they’ll be quicker to learn than the older ones, although, of course,’ he wrinkled his brow,
‘younger women may have more in the way of family commitments. What do you think, Eveleen?’

She thought a moment before saying carefully, ‘If we pick single women first, then the young married women who have no children. If their husbands have gone to the Front, they’re
– they’re not likely to have children now, are they?’ There was a catch in her voice. Her statement so poignantly applied to herself.

Brinsley glanced at her and then his gaze dropped away. ‘No, my dear,’ he said softly and she knew he understood her feelings.

Eveleen continued determinedly. ‘There are one or two I could recommend to you immediately from the inspection room and we could recruit young girls just out of school to take their place.
I’ll go and see Win Martin. She’ll probably know of some.’

Brinsley nodded. ‘How’s young Bridie shaping up?’

Eveleen smiled. ‘She loves it. She’s the youngest there and of course all the women are making a huge fuss of her.’

‘Good, good.’ Brinsley stood up. ‘Now we’ll take a walk through the machine shop and see what gaps all this volunteering is going to leave us. There are several all
planning to enlist along with Richard. By doing so they all hope to stay together. Did you know?’

Eveleen, unable to speak for the lump in her throat, merely nodded.

‘We need to talk to Bob Porter about our plans to bring women into the factory,’ Brinsley shouted above the noise as they were walking together down the aisles between the rows of
machines. Every so often a machine stood idle, its operator already gone to war. As they moved into the office overlooking the machine shop, Eveleen said, ‘He’ll not like it. He’s
one of the old school. He’ll say it’ll cause more trouble than it’s worth.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I could wish it was Josh still in charge at this moment. Bob
Porter’s not an easy man at the best of times.’

Brinsley helped himself to Bob Porter’s chair and sighed as he sat down. ‘I know. But we’ve got to try at least. Go and find him, my dear, would you?’

Eveleen half-turned and then glanced back at her father-in-law. ‘Are you all right? You look very tired.’

Brinsley passed a weary hand across his forehead. He looked suddenly much older than his fifty-five years. ‘I’m not sleeping too well,’ he admitted. ‘I’d begun to
take it easy, to hand over the reins, as it were, to Richard, but now . . .’

He left the sentence unfinished, but Eveleen understood. He was going to have to work far harder than he had done in recent years and, coupled with the worry over his son and indeed his concern
for all the young men he had employed who were now volunteering, the extra burden would take its toll.

Eveleen knew just how he felt. Already she was experiencing sleepless nights and extra responsibility was being thrust upon her too. But she was young and fit and determined to cope. Besides, by
throwing herself into work she could put aside, even if only for a few hours, her anxiety over Richard.

A rush of affection for Brinsley, who had been involved with her family even before she was born, made her move to his side and offer, ‘Will you let me take some of the weight off your
shoulders? I mean, if women are coming into the factory, then maybe it would be better if Bob Porter and I worked together more.’

Brinsley shook his head and sighed. ‘You’re a sweet girl to offer, but you’re doing enough already. It wouldn’t be fair to expect you to do any more. You still have to
cope with overseeing the warehouse and all the homeworkers.’

Eveleen sat down opposite him and leant on the desk. ‘But I have Helen at the warehouse. She’s more than capable of taking on more responsibility there. And I’ve already asked
Win Martin to do the same. You see . . .’ She hesitated to reveal what was a very private matter between Richard and herself, but now she would have to do so. She took a deep breath and went
on. ‘You see, before this war started I’d been planning to do a lot less myself.’ She looked him straight in the eyes now as she said softly, ‘You must know how desperately
I want to give Richard a son.’

Brinsley nodded.

‘Well, we wondered if I was doing too much and that was – well . . .’ she stammered to a halt. It was not the sort of thing that was talked about in polite circles and
certainly not between a young woman and her father-in-law. But Brinsley came to her rescue. He smiled sadly and said, ‘And you were planning to take life a little easier and see what
happened, eh?’

Eveleen nodded and sudden tears filled her eyes. ‘But now he’s going away.’ Then she brushed such a show of weakness aside impatiently and added firmly, ‘I shall
need
to work. Harder than ever.’

Brinsley nodded slowly and said heavily, ‘Maybe I do too. It gives you too much time to think if you’re not busy, doesn’t it.’

Eveleen nodded, then added, ‘But you mustn’t do so much that you become ill.’

‘Nor you, my dear.’

She smiled again and said, accentuating the Lincolnshire dialect she had never quite lost, said, ‘Oh, I’m tough as owd boots, mester.’

They regarded each other across the table, understanding one another’s feelings implicitly.

‘We’ll work at it together then, Eveleen. It’s what I’d like more than anything.’

‘That’s settled then,’ Eveleen said as she rose. ‘Now I’ll go and find Bob Porter.’ She pulled a wry expression. ‘I think he’s going to take more
persuading than anyone.’

‘I ain’t ’aving troublesome women in my machine shop and that’s final.’ Bob Porter was adamant. ‘It’s not that I’ve anything
against women. They’re all right. In their place. But that’s not in a factory.’

‘But, Bob, we’ve lost several men already and more are going each day.’ Brinsley spread his hands with a gesture of inevitability. ‘How do you think we’re going to
run the factory without using women?’

‘There’s young lads we can get and older men. Women’s all right in the warehouse, I grant you. And working at home.’ Bob jabbed his forefinger at the floor. ‘But
not here.’

Brinsley and Eveleen exchanged a look before he got to his feet. Drawing himself to his full height, he said with authority, ‘Well, I’m sorry, Bob, but that’s the way
it’s going to have to be. Now, Mrs Stokes will work with you. In fact, she will be responsible for the women workers, if that’s how you feel.’

Bob Porter’s face was like thunder and Eveleen sighed inwardly. Tight-lipped, Bob said, ‘Whatever you say, sir.’ He turned on his heel and marched out of the office.

‘Oh dear,’ Brinsley said with a thin smile. ‘I think we’ve upset him.’

Despite her qualms, Eveleen forced herself to say brightly, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll handle him.’

With a chuckle that chased away some of the anxiety from his face, Brinsley said, ‘I don’t doubt it for a minute, my dear.’

When Brinsley had left for the day, Eveleen faced Bob Porter in his office. ‘Now, Bob, let’s sit down and talk this matter out calmly.’

His head thrust forward belligerently and malevolence sparked in his eyes. ‘Ain’t nothing to talk about, missis. The boss has given me ’is orders and that’s
it.’

‘No, Bob, it isn’t. You’re a very important part of the running of this factory. You know that. We’re not trying to antagonize you or usurp your authority. It’s
just . . .’ she sighed and for a moment her shoulders sagged. ‘Oh, Bob, it’s all sorts of things.’

The man stared at her. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Sit down, Bob, and let’s talk. Please.’

The man made to sit in the visitor’s chair in his office, but Eveleen gestured to the chair behind his desk where Brinsley had sat, the chair that was rightly Bob Porter’s.
‘No, no. This is your office, Bob. Not mine.’

The man gave an ungracious grunt, though he sat down in the chair. ‘I thought you was tekin’ over.’

Eveleen stood in front of the desk, looking down on him. She had invited him to sit down deliberately, but she remained standing. It gave her a feeling of advantage. ‘We seem to have got
off to a bad start.’

‘Ain’t no good start as far as I’m concerned, if you’re bringing women in here.’ He nodded through the glass partition separating his small office from the machine
shop, a mournful look on his face as if all that he held most dear was about to be swept away.